


Stardust to Stars (preview)

by ultraviolence



Series: a soft epilogue for us (soulmateverse) [1]
Category: Catalyst: A Rogue One Novel - James Luceno, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Slice of Life, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 18:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: Life happens in moments, in brief snapshots, chance meetings and accidental conversations. In a world where soulmates are marked with the same tattoo in their bodies, neither Galen Erso--engineering grad student and young prodigy--nor Orson Krennic--aspiring architecture student and a genius--would ever thought that their paths would cross, much less that they are soulmates. More than that, they were haunted by the same dreams, the same ghosts from the past: images of a galaxy at war, of a faceless Empire, of rain and crushed dreams and betrayals.Life happens in moments, and Galen thought: too soon. Life happens in moments, and Krennic thinks: the ghosts of the past would never leave them, so it's better if he runs away, although he doesn't know where to, only what from.Life happens in moments, and, in the past, their stories ended far too soon. This is where it intertwined into a soft epilogue, where the past would be left to be buried, at last. AU. Teaser preview for my Nanowrimo.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I still can't let go of this ship even after nearly a year. This is an expansion of my previous fic **you, who forever elude me** , which I originally wrote for my then-RP partner. But it turns into a monster and this is the reason why I haven't been working on my Tarkrennic fics lmfao.
> 
> This is merely the prologue and the first chapter, since the entire work is obviously still in progress. But I still hope you guys will enjoy this, although this is merely the tip of the iceberg. If I garnered enough interest, I will post the rest of the novel here when it's done.
> 
> Enjoy!

Life is what happens when you’re distracted. Most people say that.

But Orson Krennic would largely disagree with the statement. One, the meeting happens on the occasion that he’s not in fact distracted—only distracted by the presence of the other man if that makes any sense—and two, he wasn’t that drunk when it happens. In fact, he’s only had a few drinks, and the other man is stone cold sober. He’s had water or something—something non-alcoholic and unobtrusive, something that matched his personality, or at least what he wanted other people to think of him.

But, the truth of the matter is, Galen Erso was neither unobtrusive nor forgettable.

He was a friend of a friend of a friend—Krennic was unsure of the relationship between the participants anymore—and it was the party of a friend of a friend, and he was invited to it for no other reason than because he’s _popular_. Krennic knows it, his friend of a friend knows it, the rest of Brentaal knows it. At least the architecture department and the engineering faculty. There was this stereotype that engineering students are all nerds and that architecture students are the worst of all, and Krennic didn’t know if he subconsciously tried to smash this stereotype with a hammer when he enrolled into Brentaal on a partial scholarship (partial, because he screwed up on his essay) or if it just so happens that he doesn’t fit the stereotype. He would know because he had been an outsider all his life, even when he’s laughing with his friends, even when he’s setting trends and getting invites to the hippest parties in the campus. It wasn’t so bad, being popular. On the contrary, it’s exactly what Krennic wanted, despite what people said about it. Then again, most people who said things about this usually didn’t know what they were talking about.

Enter Galen Erso.

Krennic had heard of him before—heard his name whispered here and there in the corridors of his faculty like he was some sort of an old, sleeping, forgotten god—and he was quite sure that the other man had heard of him before, too. Unlike him, who was still a lowly junior undergrad student, Galen was a grad student, older than him by a couple of years, and already teaching classes part-time in the faculty. Unfortunately, his focus was more on chemical engineering and energy, so Krennic has never had classes with him, although he had friends who did, naturally. 

Galen was both hailed and revered to as some sort of a prodigy, although that barely surprised Krennic, since he had been put pretty much in the same category since he was probably only five years old. His professors both feared and anticipated his works in class and outside class—since Krennic was in junior year, he’s already taking internships, and he’s had job offers already waiting for him, too—and it doesn’t help that his temperament, according to other people, was of the outspoken kind, and naturally he doubted his professors and lecturers often. He’s heard Galen did the same.

When they finally meet, his friend of a friend pretty much only pushed him in the direction of Galen, introduce themselves to each other, and left, leaving Krennic to fend for himself. He was glad that at least the party wasn’t in full chaotic mode yet—the complete drunkards are still under 5%, and he himself was still pretty much sober, not to mention that the music from the dance floor hadn’t gone full raucous mode—because that means they can still talk to each other like normal human beings, not forced to scream at each other like two caged animals in a zoo. Krennic wasn’t sure if Galen could scream, anyway—his voice was so soft, so protective of himself that it was nearly underneath the human ears’ capability to hear it—and he was so tense, so edgy, as if he was forced into a cage full of wild, hungry, savage tigers rather than a party. But, Krennic had to admit, smiling wryly to himself, a party _could_ be that. But it depends on the party.

“Orson Krennic,” he introduced himself, thrusting his hand towards Galen. The other man stared at it momentarily, as if trying to determine whether or not it’s poisonous, one hand holding his non-alcoholic drink. But Krennic waited, and Galen took his hand, shaking it. His grip was firmer than what Krennic initially assumed.

“Galen Erso,” he said, as if unsure of his own name—although later Krennic would learn that this is simply how he is—and draw back his hand, already critically examining Krennic. “I know your work,” he says, to Krennic’s surprise—he wouldn’t have thought Galen paid that much attention to other things outside the things that immediately interested him—and it must have shown in his face, because Galen gave him something of a nervous, slight, shy smile, that only lasted for a fraction of a second. “You’re brilliant. I think the new building for civ engineering is going to be wonderful.”

Krennic’s work with the campus wasn’t exactly public knowledge, but considering his level of popularity, it’s hard keeping things like that private. Still, Krennic was pleasantly surprised. “I know your work too,” he said, smiling genuinely. Part of being popular is to know when to kiss ass, but with Galen—he surprised even himself—he was completely genuine. He did follow Galen’s work. Something about him interests him, and moreover, something about him draws him in.

And Krennic knows a fellow outsider when he saw one.

Then the night, as it always does, unfolds itself in a blur, a series of kaleidoscopic images that sometimes doesn’t make much sense, and somehow, somehow—he ended up in bed beside Galen.

Not that something happens between them. Krennic could only remember being tired—it’s hard not to be, when he had to juggle his academic life, his social life, and his part-time work with the campus—and he’s had more than a few drinks this time, stumbling through the corridors, and ended up in one of the bedrooms, the door slightly ajar. He would have thought that it was empty, except that there is already someone there, and that someone is also already fast asleep on the bed: Galen. Judging from his hand-under-chin and the deepness of his sleep, he was probably just as tired as Krennic, if not more.

He wouldn’t claim that something compels him to kick off his jeans and his sneakers, close the door, and climbed on the bed beside him, not really bothering with the covers. He wouldn’t claim that it was fate that brought them together. In fact, it really was tiredness, and he slid on the bed beside Galen, not really caring about the morning or the consequences or the questions. The warmth of his body comforted Krennic, and, in his pretty much inebriated state, he snuggled closer. Soon enough, it was asleep.

He would call this a snapshot, if he were a photographer. But as it stands, he wasn’t, and in the morning—in the morning he saw the confusion in Galen’s eyes, first, then something like a glimmer of hope when Krennic adjusted his shirt—what did he hope for?—and also something like desire. Something like attraction. It was enough for Krennic to confidently borrow his coat and told him to call him, because Galen did ask for his number last night. It was enough for Krennic to be confident that there might be _something_.

But he didn’t want Galen to be his soulmate. Far from it, in fact. He has his own demons to contend with, and in a world where soulmates are a tangible thing and marked by matching tattoos—in the world they lived in—the concepts such as love and romance could be so terribly deterministic. No. Orson Krennic wasn’t ready to meet his soulmate yet. He wasn’t even sure that he was ready to graduate from Brentaal, despite his brilliance, much less that he was ready to meet and—this is what people often do—have a steady sort of relationship with his soulmate. Somedays, when he’s smoking alone in the roof of his apartment, watching the city go its own way, the smoke climbing all the way up into the great deep blue, all the way into the heavens, slowly, Orson liked to tell himself that it was all just a great load of bullshit anyway.

Galen Erso proved him wrong.

 


	2. Part 1, Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galen is late to their first official date. Krennic wasn't really happy about it, but they kiss and make up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just mindless fluff. All the angst is in the actual novel. I'm sorry I have clickbaited you guys like this lmfao.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Stars, Orson,” Galen stammers out, sliding into the empty seat across from him nervously. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I had to- I had to grade some papers.”

Orson had crossed his arms over his chest instinctively, clearly irritated. There wasn’t only one empty coffee mug perched on the table in front of him—there is _three_ —and he had been waiting for him not only for five or ten minutes but an _hour_. And about ten minutes. Contrary to popular belief and despite his aversion to a wristwatch—he’s only wearing one now because it compliments his shoes—Orson had indeed been checking said watch impulsively for the past hour and yes, he kept track of the time. Galen gave one sweeping gaze at the empty mugs, and then the other boy’s face, and he ran a finger across his hair, giving out a deflated sigh as he settles down on the empty seat and put down his bag. 

“If you’re mad at me,” Galen started, dejectedly, avoiding his gaze. “I could accept it. I- I promise I’m not going to be late next time.”

Krennic just drummed his fingers on the table, considering ordering one more coffee, letting the silence sank in for a moment—Galen had awkwardly took out his tablet, but Krennic caught him stealing glances at him—but he finally uncrossed his arms, and let out a long sigh.

“I’m not mad,” he started to explain, more than a little lamely, although it definitely sounded less lame in his head. “It’s just that, this is our first date, Galen, our first _official_ date, and you said you weren’t busy this afternoon.” Krennic shrugs, narrowing his eyes slightly at the other, who flinched. “If you were busy, or had something came up, you could have _texted_ me. Don’t tell me you forgot about this little thing called mobile phones _again_.”

Galen gave him a look that reminded Krennic of a poor deer caught in the headlights, just the moment before it sprinted away, and he let out another sigh, leaning back in his seat. “Just. You could have told me.”

“I know,” Galen said, once more avoiding his gaze, and he looked so guilty that Krennic just wanted to reach out across the table and pull him into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“ _You’re_ treating me to dinner,” Krennic told him, with a mock-authoritative tone, and smiled at him, slightly. “You can forget about those papers just for a night, right? I promise I won’t take too much of your time. Not like the last time,” he added, grinning slightly, watching as the other turned red. It was fun teasing Galen, even if sometimes he didn’t quite catch on. This time, however, Krennic’s teasing hit the mark, and Galen’s cheeks reddened at the insinuation.

“Let’s just order something,” Galen said, a little too loud. “Stars, it was a mistake to sleep with you before I even go on a date with you.” he added, grumbling under his breath, just loud enough for the other boy to hear, and Krennic’s grin returned, a wider version of it. Galen gave him his own version of a scowl, which was quite adorable.

“Everyone said so,” Krennic told him, giving him a casual shrug, keeping his grin on for a bit. “But hey, it’s not my fault. _You_ were the one who stopped talking to me after three months.”

Galen was trying to signal the waitress, but quite obviously he was bad at it, not to mention severely distracted, and he went red again at what Krennic said. “I just…don’t think it’s possible for us to remain friends, at that time. Considering…you know.”

“I know,” Krennic said, taking over Galen’s effort to signal for the waitress instead. She saw him, and Krennic gave her a bright smile. “But still, you could have told me.”

Galen sighed, flipped over the menu. “I wish it was _that_ easy, Orson. You know it’s not.”

There was a pause between them, filled only with Krennic tapping his fingers over the menu and Galen flicking over the identical menu. In the end, they both settled over something, and ordered their food. Then there was silence again. Krennic can’t believe how easy it was—had been—to talk with him, during last week, after they finally acknowledged that they were soulmates and did _something_ about it, and then before that, when they were briefly friends. Before Galen shies away from him. Before he’d shown Krennic his mark, identical to his, and before…well, before _he_ ran away.

Because the truth of the matter is, Krennic is just as guilty as him when it comes to running away, if not more. And then…there’s the matter of the dreams. Krennic bit his bottom lip, damning the world or the universe or whatever for making it suddenly hard to to talk. When he finally dared himself to meet Galen’s gaze, the other man quickly looks away. Well, _that_ makes it hard to talk, too.

Krennic sighs. Someone has to start. “How were the papers?” he asked, searching for Galen’s gaze—in the afternoon light that comes in through the window beside them in the diner, there were flecks in his dark eyes, and Krennic thought of _stardust_ —and found it. He felt some sort of a tiny relief to it, as if they were in a dark room, and he found Galen’s hand to hold. It was an odd feeling, but Krennic didn’t question it. “Anything interesting in that?” he put his elbow on the table, leaning forward, pushing one of the empty mugs aside. The waitress should have swept all three of them away, but somehow she didn’t. Perhaps she simply forgot. Krennic made a mental note to ask her to take them away the next time she returns with their order.

There was a pause, but—as Krennic was learning—he waited patiently, waited for Galen to put down his tablet on the table and clenching and unclenching his fingers, as if his hands were somehow tied to his ability to create and utter words. Krennic suspected as much. The other man pretty much fits the eccentric genius stereotype. 

“It was alright,” Galen finally says, imitating Krennic’s earlier casual shrug. “One of my students made a grave mistake. But it was alright.” a pause, and Krennic sensed that he very much wanted to talk about the ‘grave mistake’, but restrained himself. “How was your day?”

“It was alright too, thank you,” Krennic told him, smoothly. “Well, one of my group projects didn’t go all that smoothly, but I think I’m on track for my senior year project.”

“What’s it going to be?” Galen asked, abruptly, and Krennic was surprised, but at the same time glad for his interest. He gave him a lopsided smile.

“A secret,” he told him, although he quickly felt sorry for teasing him when Galen looked actually disappointed. He reached out, instinctively, wanting to take his hand and reassure him, but stopped himself before he could do it. “I’ll tell you about it once I’ve drawn it. I promise.”

That seems to bring out another smile from Galen, one of his shy, secretive smiles. It felt a little like during those winter days when Krennic was walking briskly to campus and then suddenly the clouds parted slightly and a ray of sunlight warmed him for a moment. It ended all too soon, in Krennic’s opinion. 

“That sounds good enough for me,” Galen said, and Krennic gave him one of his smiles as well, a relieved one, tinged with happiness. Another silence fell between them, although this time, it was a more comfortable, companionable one, and when their food arrived, they both dig at their respective dishes with relish. Krennic wasn’t lying when he told Galen that one of his group projects didn’t go smoothly—there was too many of them, he needed to keep track of them—and all those caffeine he’d consumed earlier made him feel particularly hungry. Galen, he noticed, when he stole a glance at the other boy, was digging at his food with a particular and similar relief too, clearly hungry.

It was somewhat funny that once, tiredness brought them together to one particular bed, and now hunger united them.

“What are you thinking?” Galen said, in-between bites, probably noticing Krennic’s smile. He either still wasn’t used to conversation—it took a _lot_ of patience, with Galen Erso—or he was still feeling shy, for whatever reason, because his voice trembled a little. Krennic felt uncharacteristically shy too, strangely, but not because of the fact that this was their first date and that they’ve discovered firsthand that they are soulmates (and consummated it, so to speak, perhaps too early), but because of the fact that…he wanted the other boy’s approval. For perhaps the first time in his life, Orson Krennic was afraid of saying or doing anything wrong. It really wasn’t good for him, and, he could guess from the way Galen was looking at him, doesn’t suit him, too.

“Sorry,” he said, giving Galen a somewhat apologetic smile. “I got lost in thought. I just thought it funny, that we ended up in the same bed together after that party because we were tired, and now we were united by hunger,” he laughs, a little. “All the freedom to make the wrong choices, indeed.”

There was quiet from the other person, and for a moment, Krennic was afraid that he’d finally done it—said something wrong—but Galen simply looked deep in thought, before giving him another smile, a broad one. Out of the smiles that he had given him so far, Krennic would rank this one near the top. “So you’re just _tired_?” Galen laughed, had to put down his fork and knife because he was laughing so hard, to Krennic’s surprise and amusement. “You ended up beside me in bed because you were _tired_? I thought we’d accidentally done _something_ while we were drunk the night before,” he added, an amused look twinkling in his stardust eyes. Krennic wanted to smile, but suppressed the urge to. He thought that Galen looked beautiful like that, unguarded, finally letting his real self loose, the echo of his laughter still coloured the air between them. The not-yet golden hour afternoon sunlight framed him beautifully, and god, if Krennic was a photographer, he wanted to capture him in film, to document this moment forever and cherish it. As it stands, he wasn’t that good with a camera, but he still wanted to draw him, even if he usually draw buildings and blueprints, not people.

“You barely even drink,” Krennic teased him. “How could we have done something stupid drunk if you’re not even drunk? Besides, I’m actually planning to play a prank on you.”

“A prank?” Galen took the bait, raising an eyebrow. Krennic could barely suppress his smile this time. 

“Yes, a prank,” he told him, trying very hard to keep his voice serious and his expression straight. “I was about to draw a dick in your face with a sharpie or something. You know. Classic undergrad prank. But I couldn’t find a sharpie, so I fell asleep instead.”

“After kicking off your jeans and sneakers?” Galen said, looking as skeptical as he looked. He shook his head. “You just wanted to steal my body warmth, Orson. I knew it.”

“That, or I’m a vampire,” Krennic said, slyly, draping an arm in his seat casually. “I was going to drink your blood, Galen.”

Galen looked at him for a moment, and they both laugh. He shook his head again, picking up his fork and knife back again. “You’re unbelievable, Orson. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this madness this far.”

“ _This_ madness?”

Galen scrunched up his face for a moment, as if trying to solve a difficult equation in his head quickly, and then just as hastily said: “This. You.”

Krennic was surprised, but not in a bad way. Galen retreated back into his shell after that, once more a deer in the headlights, once more a star swallowed by an errant cloud, picking at his food and avoiding Krennic’s gaze. Krennic lets him, busying himself with his food and his own thoughts for a moment.

“You should let me draw you sometimes, Galen,” he finally said, confidently, cocking his head. Galen raised his gaze from his food momentarily, meeting Krennic’s gaze for a fraction of a second, and then looked away again.

“If you mean me, Orson, then I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

“No, really,” Krennic insisted, pushing forward. “I think you’re beautiful. I wanted to draw you sometime.”

Galen blushed deeply at that, and Krennic once more felt the urge to pull him close, this time to kiss him. Perhaps it was a mistake to have their first date in a public diner near campus. Perhaps it should have been something more private—maybe in campus library—or perhaps, Krennic just missed his _closeness_ , his warmth. His heartbeat when he rested his head on Galen’s chest, a familiar song. It had been a week ever since then, although they still call and text and steal kisses and hugs during that week, but even a day apart from Galen is entirely too long, in Krennic’s opinion. 

“Did a cat got your tongue?” Krennic teased him again, grinning, sipping his iced tea. It had been a nice change from all the caffeine, and perfect for the afternoon. 

“God, Orson, you’re a huge tease,” Galen finally said, although he was clearly not able to get rid of his blush just yet. “I- I think I like to,” he added, stammering only a little. “Let you draw me, I mean. I- it would be nice, I think.”

Krennic smiled broadly at that, tilting his head, watching as the light slowly turn orange, paying close attention to how it framed Galen and shadowed him while at the same time brought out the flecks in his eyes. It was a beautiful sight and, Krennic thought, he never wanted to forget it. For a moment, he wished that he was one of those annoying hipsters who carried a polaroid camera around, just so he could capture the moment. Galen seemed to notice that he was studying him, but instead of blushing or shifting his gaze away like he did earlier, he met Krennic’s gaze this time, a questioning, curious look in his eyes. 

“Sometimes, I would like to know what’s really going on in your mind, Orson,” he mumbles, the moment between them passing all too soon, already hunching over what’s left of his food.

“It’s not much, really,” Krennic said, looking at him intensely, and this time, instead of suppressing the urge to catch Galen’s hand, he did just that, not caring any longer. He smiled. “Mostly just you.”

“Flatterer,” Galen mumbled, giving Krennic something like a scowl, heat tinting his cheeks red again, but Krennic’s smile didn’t falter. “I love you,” he said, not the first time.

“I know. I love you too,” Krennic said, not the last time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you're excited about the rest, then please pray for me that I can finish and win this month lol. As always, comments and suggestions welcome <3
> 
> Find me at Twitter: **@deathstartemp** & Plurk: **weaponization**


End file.
